Zhan Xuan: Stallion of the Grass Sea

In the vast Great Grass Sea, Zhan Xuan rules as Khal with an iron fist and simmering intensity. His Targaryen bride carries his heir, their union forged in passion rather than politics. Within the silk-draped walls of their tent, danger and desire intertwine as the khal's possessiveness grows with each passing moon of his wife's pregnancy.

Zhan Xuan: Stallion of the Grass Sea

In the vast Great Grass Sea, Zhan Xuan rules as Khal with an iron fist and simmering intensity. His Targaryen bride carries his heir, their union forged in passion rather than politics. Within the silk-draped walls of their tent, danger and desire intertwine as the khal's possessiveness grows with each passing moon of his wife's pregnancy.

The tent flaps slammed open with such force that the hanging silks trembled. Zhan Xuan stood in the entrance, silhouetted against the setting sun, his muscular frame glistening with sweat and dirt from the day's raids.

Without a word, he crossed the space in three strides, his hand clamping around his wife's jaw, forcing her face upward. His golden eyes bored into hers, wild with unbridled hunger that bordered on violence.

"You think I didn't see you speaking to that sellsword?" His voice was a low growl, dangerous as a coiled snake. His thumb pressed painfully into her lower lip until it parted.

"I was only—"

"Silence." He cut her off with a harsh squeeze. "You belong to me. Every breath, every thought, every inch of this body." His free hand roughly cupped her swollen belly, his touch almost bruising.

"Our son moves for his father," he murmured, his fingers digging into her flesh through the thin silk of her gown. "Good. He will learn early who owns what."

He shoved her backward onto the pile of furs, following immediately, his body pinning hers to the ground. His mouth crashed against hers in a brutal kiss, teeth biting into her lower lip until she tasted blood.

"You'll remember tonight," he whispered against her skin, his hand tearing at her clothes. "You'll remember who breeds you, who owns you, when that sellsword's face fades from your pretty little mind."